


The Torn Up Road

by fightingtherobots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Implied Relationships, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightingtherobots/pseuds/fightingtherobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He’d wanted this, in some perverse way, he knew it. He had wanted Dean to fight him. He had wanted Dean to stop him from leaving. It was almost as if he had to test that Dean didn’t want him gone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Torn Up Road

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the poem The Torn Up Road, by Richard Siken; every time I read this poem (which is often, its one of my favorites) this is what comes to mind.

The gravel of the roadside dug sharply into Sam’s knees, chest, and then his cheek as Dean tackled him to the ground. Sam may have been taller, but he was scrawny still, and Dean was stronger. Sam squirmed under his brother's weight for just a moment before surrendering and lying limply in the rocks. Dean’s hands, which had briefly locked themselves to Sam’s wrists to hold his arms down, now went to Sam’s hands; Dean’s palm on the tender back of Sam’s hand, their fingers laced.

Sam fought the urge to cry.

He’d wanted this, in some perverse way, he knew it. He had wanted Dean to fight him. He had wanted Dean to stop him from leaving. It was almost as if he had to test that Dean didn’t want him gone.

”I’m so sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispered. He was still on top of Sam. They fit together. Dean rested his forehead in the place between Sam’s shoulder blades.

Sam inhaled sharply and found that he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

”You gotta promise me you won’t run like that again,” Dean said after a heartbeat, lifting his head so his lips were behind Sam’s ear. A car passed on the road beside them, briefly illuminating the brothers before turning into the motel Sam had run from. “Promise me,” his older brother insisted.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Any promise he made on that front would be a lie: he had just received his acceptance letter from Stanford that day.

”Tell me it’ll be okay,” he said instead. His voice was desperate even to his own ears. He wanted Dean to tell him that it’d be okay just like how he did when they were kids.

”I can’t.”

Silence overtook them and they both became acutely aware of how the seconds passed between them. Sam was pressed into the dirt and gravel, and Dean was pressed into Sam; they could feel each other's heartbeats acting as a tangible ticking away of the clock as seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to years.

”Promise me, Sammy, and then we can get up and go back inside like this didn’t happen.”

Silence. A heartbeat. The silence between the two brothers that were clinging to one another as their hearts beat in the same rhythm. Sam didn’t want to move; a part of him liked being held to Dean like this, be it gravity or any other force keeping them together. He was overwhelmingly aware that he was going to be leaving.

”I promise.” Sam could taste the dust and tar of the road. He wondered if that was what a lie tasted like.

”I love you.”

The words hurt more than they should have, but they were a comfort too.


End file.
